1988
"I thought this life wasn't worth
Living anymore but than I saw
you and found a reason to make
it through another day."
LONELINESS.
The title of Michael's new journey entry
was written boldly in deep black ink that
stained the the second piece of eggshell
colored paper underneath.
Two months ago, A therapist recommended
Michael to start writing how he felt and keeping track of his thoughts. At first, Michael didn't feel
the need to do that. He thought it was a waste of time until the days of him not being able to see
his therapist came.
That journal became useful then.
His black leather journal was like another form
of cognitive therapy. It helped him understand
as well as analyze how he was feeling and how
he was coping with that feeling.
Today, January 8th, 1988...Michael was feeling lonely. Something that he always felt more days
than others but this particular day stood out the
most. Today marked three years of the mental
breakdown that destroyed Michael's life.
"I use to think about the good times. The times where I wasn't an empty and shallow shell of nothing. The times were my smiles weren't fake and my laughter wasn't forced. The times where the sun used to wake me up in the morning and the sky's alway's represented a new day of life and living.
Unfortunately, I'm not the same man as those times and more than likely will never be. The sun doesn't wake me up anymore because I make sure to keep the pitch black curtains shut. The sky that once brought me affirmation of positivity and a new day of life, only seems to remind me of how I can not restore the happiness that once consumed me with open arms of love."
"I cannot soak into the bath of happiness when my mind stripped me of everything I had and left me naked. Left me with nothing but a reflection of my past self. I am nothing anymore. Tumbleweed in the dryest deserts have more purpose than I but yet I'm still here. Wasting away like forgotten food deep in the back of an old refrigerator. I just wish sometimes that someone will bring me out of this misery because I can no longer do it myself. I just wish that someone will ask me how my day is and that I can tell them that I won't to disappear...I want them to hug me like a child that has been lost and found, back into the arms of a loving parent.
I just wish that I wasn't so lonely."
Michael
The sound of a bell ringing caused Michael to
shift his eyes away from his black journal and towards the front of his antique store.
It was around seven, not late timing but since it
was the start of winter, it tended to get dark very early; Right now, the sky was pitch black. No one
would usually come to Michael's antique shop
this time of day, in the winter.
Michael wasn't really able to see who this person
was because they had on some black hoodie that
hid their face. Michael was curious to see their identity but he wasn't scared or anything, he
had nothing to be afraid really.
Depression took everything he had so if this
visitor happened to be a serial killer or a thief with
a gun, Michael would gladly let the person kill him.
It's not like he valued life anymore, anyways.
As the stranger walked to the back of the store
where the classic books were located, Michael diverted his emotionless eyes back to his journal.
He re read his newest entry and almost laughed at how pathetic he felt as though he sounded.
